Her Cute Dream

A country girl is dreaming a preposterous dream.
Her life is entrusted to a poor carpenter,
but her mind is aiming at that higher place,
dreaming a cute dream of meeting God.
That’s why she is not surprised and just accepts
the words Angel Gabriel says, which is more
ridiculous than her dream,
because her body-soul-sprit has been brooding the Savior.
Fear of stoning death can’t kill her dream.
Scarlet letter can’t wound her dream.
She won’t regret her dream
despite her painful life of having God as her son.
She’ got the title of God’s mother
that is more humongous than her dream.
 
She and I are dreaming a dream
that is more absurd than any other dreams.
Do you ask who she is?
Whoever is dreaming an embarrassing dream
Is my ‘she’.

She Wants to Be a Woman

She is called Sophia.
No matter how thick her lips
is rouged with wisdom just like her name,
even though her whole life is given to God,
and her passion of feminism is being hidden in her breasts,
she wishes to be a woman in her heart?
Then her skin-deep body would follow.
That’s why she said to ordinary women
that sacred and sexual didn’t hate each other.
If she were a virgin, I would be happy but disappointed.
If she weren’t a virgin, I would be bitter but relieved.
Well, how could I pluck a star?
The only thing I could do is to fly
my kite high up in the sky
toward her bosom
that is yearning for being a woman?
Let her be,
if she looks soaked deep in sorrow.

I Shall Be a Flower 8: We are…

We are facing each other like this
Listening to the song ‘We are…’,
Immersing own self into each other’s eyes,
And feel the breath from each other’s lips.
You can call it the will of fate
Or you can draw an energetic picture
Called the power of avoidable fate.
This wouldn’t be a temptation from Satan.
I am not a prey worth drooling over.
This wouldn’t be a temptation from God either.
He, such a big being, shouldn’t have put
This kind of dirty and childish snare
For a marginal human being like me.
We can insist that this is a will of God.
Well, would we feel God’s warm mind
That tries to grant my wish that I want to be a flower?
I decide to become a flower for her…
Why she? All right, all right, all right, but
Let’s try to make myself comfortable.
Looks like shy drank my scent as much as she wanted,
But I was being enchanted by her beautiful wings.
After not-so-long time passes,
What will we become?
We are…
We are…

Night Fog

i read a poem
as if walking in a thick fog
in my dark room.
i read a poem
written by a woman
whose mind even God wouldn’t know.
i put out the dim candle light in the room;
i read a poem
without caring where this invisible road
in the night fog leads to.

with this feeling in the fog as it is
with this dark feeling as it is
i write a poem.
in order for the woman who loves me
to get lost in the night fog;
nah, she wouldn’t even look for a road.
i write a poem.
in order for her
to feel my small breath
to feel my shaking hands
to feel my bitter yearning
in the deep darkness
where even a single firefly
is not allowed,
i write a poem.

Mother of God

God envied people He created; they had mothers.
The Creator rushed down from Heaven devoid of Mother
to the Created on the Earth full of mothers.

God found a shy little girl called Mary
In a remote hamlet, a humongous cage.
Would you be my mother, red canary?
God danced when she sang YES onstage.

God flung the door open and Mary fluttered out of the cage.
He shouted like a thunder; now I have my own mother!

God was becoming a human inside a tender body.
God was becoming a boy with sweet milk of a woman.
He became a man under the tiny wings of a feeble lady.
He became a son of the most elegant human.

God whispered; I love you, Mother!

Poor Mary returned back God’s gargantuan love lavishly!
She made God smile by keep everything deep in her nous.
She made God not to abandon hope for humans easily
by crouching down at the foot of the Cross.

God who created mothers came to know;
mother’s bosom as vast as Heaven,
mother’s love deeper than the deepest well,
mother’s sacrifice beautiful only to the eyes of God,
mother’s suffering allowed only to mothers.

God wanted to magnify mother’s love dearly
by wiping Eve’s stain off Mary’s feathers
by re-creating Mary’s body lest it would rot vainly
by crowning her as Queen of Heaven and Earth
with a wreath highlighted by plenty of white roses.

Now I envy God;
He has the most beautiful Mother!

Yet God glorified us; here is your mother,
He pleased his Mother; here are your children,
while dying on the Cross; so concrete.
That’s God’s love; so complete.

Holy Mary, Mother of the Absolute.
How dare can we call you our mother?
Your son was nailed on the Cross by the resolute.
How can your son be our brother?

Now we have the most wonderful Mother.
She gives us her little love that raised God,
She feeds us her plentiful milk that fed God,
She leads us with her endurance that sustained God.

Mary has shrunken to become my little mother.
Mother of the Almighty has become plain mother of mine.
She willingly has become the mother of this miserable debtor.
She is having a happy life in Heaven with God in shine,
but she flies down to this world to raise us, to raise me.

Mother of God’s; Mother of ours; Mother of mine
Mother, Mother, Mother….

What’s going on, my son? Mary is your mother?!
Mom, she’s your mother too…
Nothing would matter, wouldn’t it, mom?

I crown the mother of my ducklings
as Queen of my Family
with a wreath adorned with wild flowers
and twigs delivered by cardinals.

A Desire in Sunday Morning

God won’t appear to me and say;
“Leave hear and go there…”,
I am not obedient Abraham.

God won’t appear to me as a burning bush,
I am not old Moses with a dream of Exodus.

God won’t appear to me as baby Jesus,
I am not Mary waiting for Messiah.

Beautiful Bathsheba bathing on top of the world,
tore down David who had too many women,
would surely rip me in pieces, who have too few women.
God would know….

A picture of Tulip I painted when I was a kid
was hung on the wall of my Church.
Let’s paint a woman who would destroy me.

Let’s paint God who would reveal
My obedience,
My sleeping dream,
My baby-like tender mind.

Full Human [Gospel of Mary: Page 9:16-20]

Full Human [Gospel of Mary: Page 9:16-20]

In a bright woman’s dream,
God appeared and said
“You are Jesus”.
She looked a bit odd,
but was ignored ‘cause
it was none of my damn business.
Perhaps she is a really bright woman.

A beautiful woman claimed
she was a goddess so
I called her a crazy bitch, but
now I see she might be a full human who
who discovered her own divinity.

I have long worshipped and served my wife
As goddess, but come to think of it,
I am god too…
Are there ranks among gods too?

To Blame God

I envy people who drink. At least they have something to blame everything on. – Oscar Levant

Great words! We should blame others for our problems in order to survive this hostile world. “This is my fault!” might make you a saint, but it could render you neurotic and eventually drive you crazy. Therefore, we definitely need something or somebody to blame on. That is why we need religion. That is why we need God who created us Christians. God created us without our consent so He is responsible for all our miseries, isn’t He? However, the Church that claims it is the voice of God pushes the faithfuls to the sinner’s pit by proclaiming the so-called Gospel saying that we are all sinners who almost destroyed this beautiful world God created for us and we can be saved by listening to the Church’s dogma and obey any rules that the Church made up to maintain the organization. Is Church’s will God’s will? God wants us to complain to Him and challenge Him about alleged God’s will. God is willing to solve any problems we have in this world but the Church blocks the channel to God and impose Church’s will on us. We are God’s beautiful creatures and supposed to lead happy lives in this world and forever and ever in Heaven. So blame God for any problems in your life and ask Him for help! What if God doesn’t exist? If God doesn’t exist, create Him/Her. God gave us brilliant brains to make anything possible including creating God. Too bad some people don’t have God to blame on. I can’t image how they can overcome their miseries. Well, they are all God’s creatures so they must have created something just like we created God to throw all their problems to.

Idolatry

I have no desire to become a God. I would be content with being an idol. Nah! I have to be an idol. Flowers could worship the invisible God? Nah! Hiding behind a God-like mask, when I crisscross the follower garden, flowers would worship me as if they meet God, would be frightened as if they are under judgment in front of God and would offer everything as if they give offerings to God.  My mask becomes God and God is hiding behind the mask. I wish my mask would resemble God even a bit, but I don’t know what kind of being God is and what God would look like. Even though my mask is said to be an idol, but the only visible thing is an idol, so I have to look like God to flowers. In this way, the true idolatry would be born. When I saunter around the garden with a triumphant air, I’ve found a flower wearing a similar mask as mine.  What’s happening here? How come a flower puts on an idol mask?! The flower with mask won’t worship me when I pass by. What is going on? Our eyes behind masks have a fight, but how could I win over a flower? Make the flower Goddess, then I can keep my position as an idol.  Come, come, butterflies that would worship Goddess! I will gather beautiful flowers that worship idol and when the time comes, I would unmask and say I am not God. Then the flowers would say how fortunate you are not God please keep being an idol for us.  Your mask would be magnificent if it is plated with gold. Well since the mask looks like the real God, who knows you might become God in the end?! Why am I writing this kind of gorgeous crap? A grumble of a self-proclaimed idol who can’t be worshipped by the flower(s) behind the Goddess-like mask.

Bride of Blood (Exodus 4:24-26)

God probably was pissed off by Moses
who accepted God’s calling before he
realized what he did and was trudging

back to Egypt without any thought; God
pretended to try to kill vacuous Moses,
but he was lucky enough to have a quick-

witted and extremely reactive wife just
like me. Zipporah instantly circumcised
her own son before God killed her beloved

husband. Perhaps she is the only mother
who herself did circumcision on her son?
Who knows? There are plenty of weird

moms in this world. Even with her iron heart,
how frightened she was! How mad at her
thickheaded husband she was; she called

him a bridegroom of blood. Zipporah who
was not fazed at all at the sight of blood
can be called a bride of blood or a mother

of blood? If there were no Zipporah with
the great prophet Moses, I wouldn’t be
writing this kind of gem of a poem…hew.